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70s

What were you doing in 1970? Dr. Rhino was still a twinkle in his father’s eye, but elsewhere, people were recording some great tunes. Here’s a few from the year that also gave us the first episode of All My Children, the Ford Pinto, and Fred Durst.

46 years ago today, Graham Nash left a sweet gig with one of the great British pop groups of the ‘60s, partly due to creative frustration but mostly because he’d experienced a harmonic epiphany which convinced him that his future lay not with Allan Clarke and Tony Hicks but with David Crosby and Stephen Stills.

Initially after forming The Hollies with Clarke in 1962, Nash was fine and well with doing cover songs with the group, as that’s what most groups were doing at the time, and as they moved forward into recording material by outside songwriters like Graham Gouldman (“Bus Stop”), that was alright, too, because it was at least an evolution. But as The Hollies began scoring hits with songs that they’d written themselves, Nash grew more confident of his own songwriting acumen, and as his confidence grew, so did his frustration when his contributions to the group were dismissed – including a little ditty called “Marrakesh Express” – in favor of moving in directions which didn’t strike him being as the best of all possible options.

71 years ago today, James Douglas Morrison was born in Melbourne, Florida, and went on to become one of the most iconic rock ‘n’ roll frontmen of the 1960s, but rather than offer up another playlist that’s little more than another glorified Doors best-of, we thought we’d shine the spotlight on an album that puts Jim Morrison front and center.

Released in 1978, An American Prayer featured recordings of Morrison reading his poetry and John Densmore, Robby Krieger, and Ray Manzarek performing the music playing behind him. The catch: Morrison’s recordings were done in February 1969 and December 1970, but the music was recorded the same year the album came out. Paul Rothchild, longtime producer of The Doors, had less than pleasant things to say about the resulting recording, and there were plenty of rock journalists who felt the same way, but for Doors fans, the album seemed to be the reunion they thought they’d never see, and while it proved disappointing for some, An American Prayer still has a strong fanbase even now, albeit one that’s smaller than the one for the proper Doors albums.

40 years ago today, Yes released their first and only full-length studio album featuring keyboardist Patrick Moraz, an effort which consisted of a grand total of three songs…but, of course, this is Yes we’re talking about, so the whole thing still ended up with a run time of over 40 minutes.

If you’re a big-time fan of the band, then you already know the story of how the aforementioned Mr. Moraz came to briefly join their ranks, but let’s quickly run through the tale for those who may not be as well-versed in the Yesstory. Basically, Rick Wakeman got fed up with the way things were heading with the band during the course of recording Tales of Topographic Ocean – like, to the point where he disliked the album’s concept and structure that he reportedly spent more time drinking and playing darts than actually contributing to the music – and when it became evident that things weren’t changing much for the next record, he opted instead to pursue his solo career in earnest. Upon his departure, the band came remarkably close to replacing Wakeman with Vangelis, but either Vangelis couldn’t make up his mind or he couldn’t get the necessary work permits for the UK (both explanations float around the ‘net on various websites), but in the end they opted to go with Moraz, a decision doubtlessly aided by Moraz’s previous work with Lee Jackson and Brian Davison of The Nice in their early ‘70s band, Refugee.

Although legendary and still heard with frequency today you've got no idea how big this was in 1971, when it was released. And one of its main features was Bobby's sax solo. His work lives on, even if he does not.

"Live With Me"
Rolling Stones

Because it was his initial work with the Stones.

"Beggars Banquet" is the best, "Sticky Fingers" the most famous, but "Let It Bleed" is my favorite, for its bookends of "Gimmie Shelter" and "You Can't Always Get What You Want" if nothing else. When "Let It Bleed" was big, it was not gigantic, it was only after its release that the Stones took their initial victory lap as the "World's Greatest Rock and Roll Band."

"Live With Me" was in the middle of side one, and back when we used to play our albums throughout, we knew it by heart, still do.

43 years ago today, an unfortunate event took place in Switzerland that led one band to lose all of their equipment while leading another band to compose a tune that, in addition to being their signature song, is also one of the great rock anthems of all time.

On December 4, 1971, Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention were set to play a gig in the theater of the Montreux Casino, in Montreux, Switzerland, while Deep Purple were in a mobile recording studio – one they’d rented from the Rolling Stones, as it happens – elsewhere within the casino complex. The way the story goes, someone in Zappa’s audience made the highly questionable decision to fire a flare gun into the air inside the freaking theater, causing the highly-flammable ceiling to do what highly-flammable things do when they’re exposed to flares. In short order, the entire casino complex had gone up in flames, destroying the whole place and everything within it. Thankfully, Zappa and the Mothers escaped, while the members of Deep Purple were actually at their hotel, watching the fire and seeing the resulting smoke as it floated across Lake Geneva.

We’ve got some sad news to report: Ian McLagan, the man whose rollicking piano playing – first for the Small Faces, then for the Faces, and eventually for just about everybody in the music business (or at least it seems that way when you look at his discography) – made him one of the most beloved musicians to come out of the UK during the ‘60s, has died at the age of 69.

“It is with great sadness and eternal admiration that we report the passing of rock and roll icon Ian McLagan. Ian was a member of the ‘Small Faces’ and ‘Faces’ and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2012. He died today, December 3, 2014, surrounded by family and friends in his adopted hometown of Austin, TX, due to complications from a stroke suffered the previous day. He was 69 years old. His manager Ken Kushnick says, ‘He was a beloved friend to so many people and a true rock ‘n’ roll spirit. His persona and gift of song impacted the music across oceans and generations.’ Ian’s bandmate in Small Faces and Faces, Kenney Jones said, ‘I am completely devastated by this shocking news and I know this goes for Ronnie and Rod also.’ Ian’s artistry, generosity and warmth of spirit touched countless other musicians and music fans around the world. His loss will be felt by so many.”

Born in Birmingham, England in 1948, John Michael Osbourne – that’s Ozzy to you – came from a working-class family, with a dad who worked nights as a toolmaker and a mum who worked days at a factory, but he’s often said that he knew what path he’d be following after hearing the Fab Four for the first time. Indeed, in the 2011 documentary God Bless Ozzy Osbourne, he states as much outright: “As soon as I heard ‘She Loves You’ on the radio, I knew I wanted to be a rock star for the rest of my life.”

36 years ago today, Rod Stewart found his way into the top spot of the Billboard Hot 100 for the third time in his career, earning a platinum single for his trouble as well as more than a few sneers from fans who didn’t much care for Rod the Mod going a bit disco.

The opening track on Stewart’s 1978 album, Blondes Have More Fun, “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” was co-written by Rod with Duane Hitchings and Carmine Appice, the latter two musicians having worked together as members of Cactus, but as Stewart admitted much later (and after a copyright infringement suit was filed), a portion of the melody was unconsciously plagiarized from the song “Taj Mahal,” written by Brazilian musician Jorge Ben Jor. But that, of course, wasn’t the big controversy when “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” first hit the airwaves.

70 years ago today, the world was first graced with the presence of the man who sat behind the drum kit for The Doors from start to finish – minus one particularly rough day when he just got a little too fed up with the behavior of a certain Lizard King – and continues to maintain the highest level of artistic integrity in regards to band matters.

Born in 1940 in Los Angeles, John Paul Densmore first found his way into playing music via the piano, but when he started playing drums for his school’s marching band, it became clear that percussion was the path he’d be following for the long haul. In 1965, Densmore joined forces with Jim Morrison, Ray Manzarek, and Robbie Krieger, having met the latter two musicians at a Transcendental Meditation lecture, and saw The Doors through the band’s highs and lows, even sticking with Manzarek and Krieger for those two additional albums after Morrison’s death (Other Voices and Full Circle).